


Crowbar

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Multi, hurricane gus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought it’d be Geoff,” Gus murmurs like it’s a confession, eyes dropping from Joel’s face for a blessed second as he cleans his lenses. </p><p>“Thought, thought what’d be Geoff?” Joel asks. He regrets opening his mouth when Gus immediately turns his gaze back to him with laser focus.</p><p>“The cocksucker,” Gus says simply, confidently, as if–as if he knows something.</p><p>Joel's throat works as he swallows and he can see the moment it betrays him, the moment Gus' eyes dip to his bobbing Adam's apple.</p><p>“I don’t,” Joel starts. His voice cracks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowbar

When Gus gets drunk, Gus gets–well, _handsy_ doesn’t begin to cover it. Gus gets feisty. Gus gets--gay, gets forceful, gets _lewd_. They’ve all weathered the hurricane that is Gus after too much vodka, too much tequila, too much, too much–they’ve all had to put him to bed and then pry themselves out of it.

Matt thinks it’s funny. Burnie uses it as collateral. Geoff is flattered by the attention.

Joel is, is ready to punch Gus in the fucking face, if he’s honest.

“Come on, actor boy,” Gus breathes, too close and too pungent and too–too warm, too insistent. Joel puts his hand flat on Gus’ face and pushes slowly, intent on putting some room between them, but all he manages to do is smear Gus’ glasses to the side. That just, that makes it worse, because then Gus is swaying _closer_ to ease the strain on his eyes.

“Gus,” Joel says sharply. Gus’ lips curl into a smile.

“I thought it’d be Geoff,” Gus murmurs like it’s a confession, eyes dropping from Joel’s face for a blessed second as he cleans his lenses. 

“Thought, thought what’d be Geoff?” Joel asks. He regrets opening his mouth when Gus immediately turns his gaze back to him with laser focus.

“The cocksucker,” Gus says simply, confidently, as if–as if he knows something.

Joel's throat works as he swallows and he can see the moment it betrays him, the moment Gus' eyes dip to his bobbing Adam's apple.

“I don’t,” Joel starts. His voice cracks.

Gus' grin is filthy. Joel ignores it to takes a deep breath. Holds it. Breathes out. He’s seen Geoff and Burnie and Matt go through this now, has an idea of how to handle it. 

“Like you’d be able to get it up,” he says, pitching his voice low so it’s not overheard. Gus freezes where he’s putting his glasses back on, squints at Joel like a nearsighted deer in the headlights.

“What?” Gus asks, and–thank christ, he sounds unbalanced, sounds–less certain than he had. Joel licks his lips and raises his beer halfway to his mouth. Ignores the way Gus' eyes drop to his mouth.

“You’re drunk,” Joel says, forces himself to shrug. “You’re really fucking drunk. You couldn’t, I bet you anything. Not even if I, if I got on my knees right here.”

Gus blinks once, twice. Settles his glasses back into place. Blinks again.

Joel–Joel hadn’t, he hadn’t anticipated the. He hadn’t been ready for the heat in that bleary gaze.

He can feel his throat working, wants to hide it with his hand--let Gus do it for him, maybe, and _god fucking damnit_ this wasn't, this isn't how things were supposed to go.

“I could blow you,” Gus offers, so casually it, it takes a minute for Joel’s brain to catch up.

The bottle of beer hovers in front of Joel’s open mouth before he lifts his hand and tilts it back, drinking the entire thing in one go.

Gus is still watching Joel when he puts the bottle onto the bar, closes his tab with hands that–that aren’t trembling, precisely, more–twitching. Impatient.

“Come on, Gus,” Joel says once he’s finally paid, finally put his card away and turned and found Gus–still there waiting.

“Let’s,” Joel says, “let’s, let’s get you to bed.”

“Lead the way, actor boy,” Gus responds.

Damn his smile. Damn his charm. Damn his fucking, his fucking _hurricane drunkenness._

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge.tumblr.com


End file.
